


My Heart is Still

by Moss_Rose_10



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Discussion of emotional infidelity, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Parent!lock, Post-Season/Series 04, pining!Molly Hooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moss_Rose_10/pseuds/Moss_Rose_10
Summary: When an unidentified woman showed up on Molly’s autopsy table, she never imagined the secrets about Sherlock that would be revealed. When all is said and done, no one’s lives would be the same again.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	1. Frozen in Time

It was not in any way unusual for Sherlock to be called to the St. Bart's morgue to examine a corpse, nor was it particularly unprecedented for that corpse to be yet unidentified. However, Molly couldn't help but remember another time she and Sherlock had stood in front of an unidentifiable corpse. However, this time the Jane Doe was one of Greg's cases, and he and Donovan had already been waiting in the morgue for the reunited duo of Holmes and Watson to arrive.

The morgue doors swung open as Sherlock paraded through, coat billowing as usual, with John close behind.

"What do you have for us this time, Garrick?"

"Unidentified female."

"Unknown cause of death?" SHerlock assumed.

"Actually, no. She was shot, even I could work that one out, " Greg continued. "Molly said it looked like the body had been preserved, we're not sure how long, so we were hoping you could help us narrow down our missing persons search field."

"There can't be that many missing persons in London that fit the profile?" John wondered.

"That's part of the problem, actually," Molly pitched in as she pulled back the sheet over the corpse's face. "Early forensic findings indicate she wasn't from London, or at least, she wasn't killed here."

"Which means we're trying to search the whole national database, "Greg continued, "and-" He paused as he looked at Sherlock with a puzzled expression, "Sherlock, you alright, mate?"

The others looked to see Sherlock pale as a sheet himself, reaching out with his ungloved hand to touch the body's face. "Actually, no," Molly thought, "that's not so much a touch as a caress!"

"Sherlock?" John asked.

"Call Mycroft," Sherlock's voice wavered.

"What?" John couldn't believe he had heard correctly. What on earth was going on that Sherlock of all people wanted to call Mycroft!

"Call Mycroft!" He commanded more firmly, as he stumbled back to perch against one of the morgue's stools.

After several minutes of awkwardness, while Sherlock remained silent, a sick feeling began to creep through the room as the rest of them witnessed Sherlock's odd behavior.

"Sherlock?" Molly gently asked, "Do you know who this is?"

He nodded once. "You do, too, if your bookcase is anything to go off of."

"My bookcase?"

"The Kate Beckport novels."

Molly's eyes bugged out of her head as she stared at the corpse. "That's Kate Beckport?"

At Sherlock's confirming nod, Greg said, "Well, that'll get us to her case file pretty fast if there is one. We have no idea if she had been listed as a missing person or-"

"Case number 19271891," Sherlock interrupted. "Missing from her home after what appeared to be a violent altercation. Husband reported it over nine years ago."

"You worked the case?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded again. "Couldn't find her, though I tried. I tried so hard," his voice started to break, "but I couldn't find her."

At this point, even Donovan seemed a bit sorry for Sherlock because of how shaken he was over the unsolved case. Obviously uncomfortable with how the afternoon was playing out, Greg cleared his throat. "Right then, we'll look up the case for Kate Beckport and-"

"Holmes."

All attention snapped immediately back to Sherlock's down-turned face. "Her legal name was Katherine Holmes. She had already published under her maiden name, so she kept it professionally after she married, but the case file will be under the name Katherine Holmes."

It was a long moment before anyone had recovered enough to follow up on that particular piece of information.

Donvowan was the first. "Wait, did you know her?! Not for the case, but actually know her, like a cousin or something?"

"Know who?" Mycroft's voice cut through the air. No one had noticed him step in quietly, having quickly heeded Sherlock's rather unusual summons.

"The body," John indicated the partially-covered body on the autopsy slab. "Sherlock said her name was Katherine Holmes."

It was rare to see surprise on the face of Mycroft Holmes, but it was clearly there at that moment as he quickly stepped up to the table, taking a perfunctory look at the face and, oddly, going to Sherlock and gathering his little brother into his arms in a tight embrace. His hold, though stiff, was so firm that Molly could just barely see the shaking of Sherlock's shoulders in what appeared to be silent sobs.

Despite the situation and his obvious discomfort at the display of emotion by the Holmes brothers, Greg pressed on. "Sherlock, if you know her personally, you should let us know so we can make the formal ID and make progress processing the case. Otherwise, we'll have to wait for next-of-kin to be notified and come in, and who knows how long that'll take."

Mycroft let Sherlock go enough to pull away and face Lestrade, though he kept his brother sheltered under his right arm, as Sherlock's face stayed hidden in the folds of his brother's coat. "I can confirm that that is Katherine Beckport Holmes, Detective Inspector." Mycroft intervened. "Please, do continue with your investigation. If there is anything I can do to help."

Greg's eyebrows raised in surprise that the elder Holmes had offered to help. "Well, with the ID, that'll help us move forward, but if you know the best way to contact her next-of-kin, it'll save us time if they've moved or something. She had a husband, Sherlock said, right?" At Mycroft's nod of agreement, Greg continued, "Do you know who he is and where he is now?"

"William Holmes, "Sherlock's voice wavered, as he rattled off information, expressionless now that the initial torrent of tears were past. With his face now no longer hidden in Mycroft's shoulder, Molly could see that he had, indeed been crying, his bloodshot eyes testifying to the tears that had by now created a damp spot on Mycroft's coat. "221B Baker St, NW1, London."

One by one, the others slowly came to the horrifying conclusion of who exactly this woman was to the consulting detective.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry," Molly offered.

"Yeah, mate, that's horrible. And I'm sorry you found out like this, I never would have brought you down like this if we had known," Greg continued.

"Don't be, "Sherlock muttered.

"What?" Greg questioned.

"Don't be sorry for me, "Sherlock said, loud enough to be clearly heard this time, disdain apparent in his voice.

"What? Why?" John asked. "I know you don't like pity, but this isn't pity, it's-"

"Undeserved, because I'm a sorry excuse for a husband and don't deserve anyone's sympathy!" Sherlock shouted.

Understanding broke across Greg's face. "Oh, because you didn't…. Sherlock, you can't blame yourself for not finding her. I'm sure you did your best and she wouldn't want you carrying that weight."

"No," Sherlock moaned, "Or not just that. What kind of sorry excuse for a husband feels relief when they find their wife dead on a slab! And what kind of unfeeling wretch, even thinks about another woman when his wife is goodness-knows-where, possibly experiencing the worst kind of misery!" He was obviously worked up, hands shaking, tears welling in his eyes, voice cracking, as he berated himself, as he shocked most of the others into silence at his confessions.

Again, it was Mycroft who stepped in to comfort his grieving brother. Taking both his brother's flailing hands in his own steady ones, he said, "Sherlock, look at me." Only when Mycroft had Sherlock's full attention did he continue. "Are you happy Katherine's dead?"

Sherlock's eyes widened. "No! Of course not. I'd do anything- anything-" His voice cracked, as he looked back over to the body, then he broke into sobs again, this time audibly, wet and gasping as Mycroft gathered him close again. "You are no monster, brother mine. You're not relieved she's dead, you're relieved she's no longer suffering, apparently hasn't been suffering for some time. As much as you grieve her loss, you hate the thought of her in pain that much more." Sherlock nodded into his brother's chest. Mycroft began rubbing slowly up and down Sherlock's back. "No one wishes to see those they love in pain. And as for thoughts of another woman, did you act on them?" Sherlock paused a moment, then shook his head. "We can't truly control our first thoughts, and only control our feelings to some extent. It's more telling that you took no action on those thoughts and feelings, even fought against them in an effort to be true to your wife, especially since you didn't know if she would ever be coming back."

Sherlock pulled his dampened face away again. "I think part of me knew." Mycroft's eyebrows raised in surprise with the beginning of a question shaping his mouth. "I didn't want to believe it; I couldn't stand to accept it. I had pulled off miracles for so many others. Why couldn't one happen to me? And the thought of letting her go, never seeing her smile again- I couldn't bear it. It's why I started the drugs. They dulled the pain but made my mind palace so real. I could almost believe she was actually here with me, instead of-" His hands fluttered away from him. "But I think I knew, some part of me, deep in my soul, it knew, knew she was gone. I just didn't want to believe it." A sad smile broke over his face. "Did you know I had never had her declared dead before? I could have. She's been gone for nearly ten years, but I couldn't do it. What if she came back and I had moved on, found someone new? I could never look her in the eye, and could never have lived with myself."

"Maybe now you'll have the chance to move on, maybe even meet someone new someday when you're ready, "John said.

Sherlock shook his head sadly. "I've been a brute to the only one I could see myself loving as I loved Kate. I just felt so guilty and-" He restarted. "I was cruel, have been cruel. She has every reason to loathe the sight of me; I don't know why she would ever want to be with me."

No one had anything to say in response to that. Molly, in particular wallowed in her own brand of guilt. She had thrown herself at him, flirted and not taken no for an answer, even demanded once that he say he loved her,- all while he was trying to be faithful to a wife that was painfully distant. She felt sick to her stomach, though it had little comparison to the ache in her heart when she considered that, if Sherlock ever sought a second love, the lucky woman was already selected; Molly herself didn't have a chance. Perhaps she never had.

Breaking the awkward silence, Molly asked an even more awkward question. "Um, Sherlock, I hate to ask this, especially right now, but was she pregnant when she went missing?"

Eyes bugged out in the heads of the room.

"May I ask why that is relevant at the moment?" Mycroft asked, a touch of disapproving protectiveness in his voice.

"Well, with how far along she was in her pregnancy when she was taken, I could give a decent estimate of how long ago she- was… killed," Molly tapered off.

"You can do that," Greg asked.

Molly nodded as she answered. "I was going to try to give you an estimate based on decomposition, but given the amount of time we're now talking about and that someone tried to preserve the body, it wouldn't be as accurate. But, if she was known to be pregnant, pregnancies have a smaller window to look at, so I could narrow it down to a matter of months probably."

"But we'd have to assume that she was pregnant when she was taken, "Donovan questioned, trying to be delicate, "What if she… got pregnant later?"

"Yes, the starting point would be best already known, but the trauma to the reproductive system is consistent with a women who had just given birth to her first child, within a few weeks prior to death, and there's no evidence of attempts at other forms of delivery or abortion, so-"

"If she was pregnant, you could count forward to her delivery, instead of backwards from the current state of her, " Mycroft concluded.

"She was five months pregnant when she was taken. We were having a little boy," Sherlock blinked slowly, tilting his head puzzledly as the rest of the information filtered through. "You said she delivered?" He peered around Mycroft to look at Lestrade. "Did they find him, too?

Lestrade's eyes were getting a workout that day, as they stared at Sherlock, as he realized, "No, we didn't find any sign of a child there. We can go back and look for evidence of him now that we know-"

Mycroft held up his hand, stopping Lestrade mid-sentence. "There's no need for your team to go back out. I'll send my people."

A wild look came over Sherlock as he stared between Lestrade and the late Mrs. Holmes. "He's still out there," he muttered to himself." He's still out there, Mycroft!" He stared into his brother's eyes, holding his brother's shoulders like a life vest keeping him from drowning. "Find him," he collapsed into his brother's arms. "Help me find my son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no money from my writing, nor do I own any characters except for my own OCs. Please review and comment! What do you think of the brothers' interactions? How do you think Sherlock will move forward regarding his son?


	2. 'Til Love Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Sherlock's missing son wraps up. How does Sherlock handle it?

With the new evidence gathered from the late Mrs. Holmes' body, Mycroft's resources were able to wrap up the nearly ten year old mystery in a relatively short period. Weeks passed; the funeral for Kate Holmes was attended by friends and family, all trying to buoy Sherlock and make sure this fresh reopening of grief didn't break his willpower and provoke a relapse. However, many were surprised at the new-appearing understanding between the Holmes brothers. Whatever wall had been between them seemed to have crumbled along with Sherlock's biggest emotional barriers upon the revelations in the morgue, and Mycroft started to become a more regular figure around Baker Street, even after the initial criminal case against the murderers was settled.

This was the reason that it was no great surprise that, after a rather mundane case had been wrapped up with Lestrade, John and Sherlock returned to Baker Street to the sight of Mycroft sitting in John's chair, manila folder held securely in his lap.

"Mycroft," John greeted as he passed into the kitchen, making tea already first in his mind. "Want a cuppa?"

"No thank you, Dr. Watson." He stood and passed the file to Sherlock, just as the younger man settled into his own chair. At Sherlock's questioning look, he continued, "William John Hamish Ezard, nine years old, son of Alan and Sylvia Ezard." He continued with highlights while Sherlock began to frantically flip through the folder's contents. Even John was distracted from his tea as he came to read the folder over Sherlock's shoulder, as Mycroft continued, leaning on his umbrella just slightly. "Adopted at three months old after being found outside an orphanage with a note saying, 'WIlliam John Hamish.' They thought that Hamish was his last name, not a middle name, and so it hadn't been flagged properly in our search. He now has a little sister, Valentine Ezard, adopted as an infant four years ago."

"Are we sure it's him?" John asked.

"I had a DNA test done before I ever brought the folder here. Didn't want false hopes, now, did we?" He smiled thinly. "It is him. He is safe and has been loved for nine years, Sherlock."

"They look after him, love him?" Sherlock asked.

"All evidence points to his having been loved by his adopted parents very much… before they died two weeks ago."

John and Sherlock's head pivoted to stare at Mycroft.

"Motor vehicle accident- not my doing, I assure you. Thankfully, the children were not with them at the time. He's in foster care until he can be placed."

"I'll take them," Sherlock said, voice muffled as he set back to ruffling through his son's file.

"Take them?"

"Yes, take them, my son and his sister. I want them to come live with me. What's so difficult to understand about that?"

"I can understand wanting the one, but both? Sherlock-" Mycroft flicked his eyes to the ceiling, exasperated.

"They may not be related to each other by blood but four years is more than enough time to grow very attached to each other, and I will not be the one responsible for removing one more loved one out of my son's life! I want to look after him, not traumatize him further!"

Subdued by his brother's conviction- he was nearly shouting by the time he finished- and his reasoning, Mycroft simply nodded his head. "I'll get in touch with the local council then, shall I?"

Sherlock nodded, more meekly than his previous anger would indicate possible. "And I'll start making up their room."

Molly couldn't decide if her heart was breaking or rejoicing at any given moment- maybe it was both. Once news of Sherlock's son had made its way to her, she, like the others in their small circle of friends, wanted to do a little something for the two children that, hopefully, would soon be residents of 221B Baker Street.

They all watched Sherlock make over the flat inch by inch in preparation- new dining table and fridge, the entire kitchen cleared of toxic materials, in fact. John's old room was made over with space enough for two. Sherlock's love of dogs and bees made its way into the children's room, even while he got blue sheets for Valentine's bed and bright yellow for Hamish's (their respective favorite colors, of course, what sort of detective doesn't do his research, after all?). And yes, apparently, his son was called, not William, nor John, but Hamish, which suited Sherlock just fine. Molly remembered the look on John Watson's face when he told her. His disbelief that another kid got saddled with that name, by Sherlock of all people (basically) was comical. She struggled not to laugh as he ranted about "Why couldn't people just give their children normal names" and "Of course, a Holmes would want to pick some obscure, archaic name!" The children hadn't even arrived yet, it was not even confirmed that they would arrive (the courts hadn't decided to release custody yet), and yet Molly could see all the love that Sherlock had always kept stored up inside as it poured out. And yet, her heart broke, for herself, and Sherlock, too. To hear that not only had Sherlock been unavailable the whole time, but, if he ever did feel ready for another romantic relationship, he already had feelings for someone? Well, she wanted him to be happy, somehow, but it didn't hurt any less that he would never be happy with her. And, while Sherlock was generally consumed with either work or preparing the flat, in the still moments, the sadness at the loss of his wife showed through, and that broke Molly's heart, too. No one ever wants to see those they love in pain, and if her grief losing him to another woman was only a fraction of his from losing his wife, she honestly didn't know how he managed to get up in the morning. To think that he had always carried some pain of this loss as long as she had known him, and no one had ever thought to ask why! Heaven help Sherlock if the judge decided that Sherlock wouldn't get custody. Molly didn't think she could stand to see Sherlock's heart break just that little bit further.

That's why, as she sat in the gallery of the courtroom, she was on pins and needles, as she saw the custody hearing play out.

Going in, most thought this would be easily handled; the boy was Sherlock's son, who was essentially stolen from him- though Kate had surrendered him willingly, it seemed likely it was just to keep the child out of the hands of kidnappers, and no one wants to split up siblings. Yet, after picking apart Sherlock's life and past and several chosen witnesses, including John, Mycroft, and Greg, Molly herself was called to give a character testimony herself. Nervously, she made her way to the witness box, and answered some preliminary questions. She couldn't help but think that the questions they were asking and the way the questions were asked were more fitting for a murder trial than a custody placement. Didn't they want the children housed with someone who would love them?

"Dr. Hooper," the barrister asked. Molly snapped out of her mind back to the courtroom. She could tell that the man was irritated. She must have missed the question the first time. "You are aware that, in the last few years, Mr. Holmes has faked his death, quite publicly, been shot and nearly killed," Molly's knuckles tightened on the arms of her chair, "and had a massive drug use problem, also quite publicly. And that is only what he has done in public. With a record like that, why should he be given the care of not one but two children? How can we trust him with something so precious?"

This was the first time this question was asked to anyone, including Sherlock. She couldn't help thinking saving it for last on the last witness had to be to try to unsettle her. But, as she saw Sherlock drop his head in shame and near defeat- surely feeling that question couldn't be salvaged, and the judge had seemed so set against him from the start- Molly realized that this was, in fact, the easiest question she had been asked yet.

"Because he loves," she answered.

"I'm sorry?"

"Because he loves," she repeated. "I know others see those instances, and they may see recklessness or lack of care, but I know him, and I know why he did those things, because there were people he was protecting that meant more to him than his own life, more than his reputation or comfort, more than anything else in the world to him." While she looked the cross barrister in the eye while she spoke, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sherlock's head slowly raise in surprise. "It's why I know he would make a great father, because he doesn't love many, but those he loves, he will do anything for, no matter what it costs him. Under that cool exterior is a heart that is kind and warm and generous and forgiving and loving and anyone who is lucky enough to be loved by him," she paused to blink back tears, "well, anyone loved by him is lucky enough."

The surprised barrister and judge released her to her seat, and she kept a watery smile on her face as she sat down. The judge called for a recess as he made his deliberations, and she promptly excused herself to wash her face of the tear tracks she wouldn't be able to hold off much longer. When she came back, a pale Sherlock was just barely keeping himself from pacing, bouncing his knee and clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to keep from running nervous hands through properly coiffed hair. Molly didn't often think of God but watching the man she loved worry so much for the sake of love, she couldn't help but pray that, somehow, he would be able to keep these two children that he already loved so much, though he had hardly met them.

They all rose in pregnant silence as the judge returned.

Molly's heart raced as the judge paused. "In the case of W. Holmes applying for custody of William and Valentine Ezard- the court grants foster custody, acknowledging Holmes' intent to adopt." While the judge tried to keep talking about a one month probationary period and random home checks in the immediate future, all those in the Holmes party seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief. Sherlock even had tears streaming from his eyes as he held his brother close in a celebratory hug and the largest smile Molly had ever seen splitting his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few author's notes: I was planning on uploading this chapter later today, but I got notification about a new follower, so I thought, forget it, we're doing it now! See, reader interaction does help make your wishes come true! Thank you so much to my lovely commenters from the first chapter; unfortunately settings wouldn't allow for me to respond to you directly, but your comments were appreciated all the same! Also, thanks to a commenter on this story, I remembered that there was another story that I wanted to acknowledge; I'm note sure I would call that story a direct inspiration for this one-- because this story was rattling around in my head for a very long time before I actually wrote it, so it's hard to say if there was an original inspiration-- but All of Me by consulting_fangirl on Ao3 is another story that I read and loved in which Sherlock is a widower. It's all angst, rated T, and a great read, if very sad. Here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2108256#main
> 
> As for this chapter, so the kids are coming to Baker Street! What do you think of that? What did you think of everyone's reactions to the kids? How did you like the courtroom scene? Or Molly's little speech? Did anyone catch the references to other work of Benedict's? Let me know if you did!


	3. To Give Me Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock settles in as a father, and his lady love is revealed. Will Molly's heart survive?

Sherlock bloomed as a father. Sure, there were some fits and starts. Molly remembered how Sherlock had trudged into the morgue for a case, dead on his feet because Valentine had refused to sleep one night, constantly waking up and needing for Sherlock to keep putting her to bed. Eventually, his will had broken when the little girl had crawled into his bed as he tried to sleep. Apparently, Hamish had followed his sister's example and had crawled into bed next to Sherlock after waking to find his sister gone from her bed. And while Sherlock would treasure the memory of waking up in the morning with two curly heads tucked close to his chest, he was dead on his feet when he dragged himself into the morgue. Molly could only imagine Mrs. Hudson's ire the first time Sherlock had come home from a case a bit too banged up after rushing needlessly into a dangerous situation. And Sherlock still had a hard time holding his tongue in front of the "idiot social worker, as if their growing up with a single me is worse than their growing up with staff in a group home!" She remembered well how he had ranted, pacing back and forth in her flat's living room while she chuckled over a cup of tea. He hadn't been fond of the idea of sending the children to school and daycare instead of homeschooling, either. "What can they teach them I can't!" She's still pretty sure it was that the courts would expect the children to attend outside school while being fostered that convinced him to let them go.

But there were triumphs and sentimental moments, too. Greg had come to the morgue with an exasperated smile on his face once. Apparently, Sherlock wouldn't shut up about his kids at NSY, and much as Greg loved to see Sherlock happy and loved that Sherlock loved the kids, Greg could only hear about Hamish's piano recital and Valentine's budding writing skills so many times at a crime scene before enough was enough.

Molly couldn't help but think how much she and Sherlock could have worked out when, while dropping off a liver at 221B, she saw him pacing the floor with a cold-ridden Valentin, as the miserable little girl refused to settle anywhere other than against the chest and neck of "Ock." Neither Hamish nor Valentine called Sherlock "Dad" or "Papa" or any other variation thereof. She wasn't sure they ever would, and she knew Sherlock wouldn't force the issue, but both children clearly adored the man, almost as much as he loved them.

It was this settling into family life that made Molly wonder why he hadn't asked out whichever woman he had had his eye on.

It was the better part of a year before Sherlock surprised her with a visit to her flat, sans children, which was becoming a bit less regular occurrence. It had taken some time to figure out scheduling and a rhythm, but in the past months, Sherlock had become quite a bit more circumspect of when he dropped his kids on his friends and family- and they were his kids now. The adoption formally had come through a few months prior, with little Hamish surprising everyone with his decision to take his biological-now-adopted father's name, and, as they had learned quickly learned, where Hamish went, Valentine followed, and it was rare occasions she could be dissuaded from that course.

So all in all, Molly was surprised when Sherlock showed at her door one evening with a bag of what appeared to be Angelo's, and only with the food. At her surprised look when she glanced down to where the children's heads would have been, Sherlock explained, "Mrs. Hudson has them for the night." After he came inside, as Molly laid the table, he continued, "I know wine is often paired with a meal like this, but, well, while I myself might appreciate its taking the edge off, I would rather that neither of us are inebriated when having this conversation."

His serious tone rather startled Molly, "What's wrong? Is it serious? If you want to discuss it over food, that's fine, but I'd rather get any unpleasantness out of the way before eating."

With a sheepish smile, he said, "The food will get cold."

"Don't care. I have a perfectly good microwave, we can reheat it."

"Angelo would be appalled," he teased.

"Angelo doesn't need to know," she challenged right back, teasing grin on her face under raised eyebrows.

He set the food on the table, then cocked his head towards her sofa. "Then I suppose we had best sit down."

As they sat facing each other, Sherlock faltered, his face a work of anxiousness, his fingers clasping and unclasping as his mouth opened and closed with aborted sentences.

Thoroughly worried at this point, Molly placed her hand over his, stilling them. "Sherlock," she pleaded, "just tell me."

With a thoughtful nod, he recomposed himself. "When-" he swallowed, "When we found Kate," he paused until Molly nodded for him to continue. "When we had found Kate, I had told you and the others that there was someone that I had harbored feelings towards, but had never acted on those feelings due to wanting to be faithful to my wife, well, not acting on them is a bit of an understatement, there were times that I was downright cruel towards her due to trying to avoid my feelings."

"Oh, dear goodness," Molly thought, "He's come to his one younger female friend to try to work out how to get back into this woman's good graces, maybe even on how to ask her out!" Oh, she couldn't do that. After Sherrinford, couldn't he realize how cruel it was to ask her, of all people?

"When I was in Sherrinford, you asked me to say that I loved you, and to save your life, I did."

Molly closed her eyes and turned away. How did it get worse? He wasn't here to ask for advice; he was here to tell her he wasn't interested before he went and asked out someone else!

"Thing is…"

Here it comes.

"It was true."

What?!

"It is true; in fact, it has been for a very long time." She stared at his now down-turned face. "And I know that I've treated you miserably, and I know I don't deserve your love. Frankly, I'm surprised you even like me, at this point. And while, I know many women find the notion of a man with children appealing, most are not so willing to actually take up with a man who already comes with them, but I'm hopelessly in love with you all the same, and I needed to tell you, even though I'm sure it's the last thing you want to-"

Molly stopped his spiraling thoughts when she brought his clenched hands to her mouth to kiss them.

After a moment of surprised stillness, he rotated his hand to cup her cheek as he bent down for a kiss. He deepened the kiss as his other hand moved up to hold her face as well, tilting her head for optimal angle, fingers tangling in her hair.

After a moment of pure bliss, Molly pulled back. She waited until Sherlock's eyes flickered open, before saying, "Was that alright?" He nodded slightly, still obviously a little muddled. She took his hands in her own. "I love you too." She was sure the smile on her face was as bright as his own. "And for the record, I think your kids are amazing, and every moment with them is a joy."

"You obviously haven't met them when they're trying to avoid eating their veg," he chuckled.

She giggled at that thought, shaking her head. "I look forward to finding out."

"I wish you wouldn't. That's one parenting experience I think I would be just as happy to never experience again." They burst out laughing. "Molly Hooper," Sherlock said after they had calmed back down. She glanced up at him as he continued, "Would you have dinner with me?"

She looked over at the takeaway trays now cool on her kitchen table. "We agreed we're not telling Angelo about microwaving it?"

"I think I can live with that," he murmured, as she reached up to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, happy ending! There's one more scene coming. To my subscribers on this story, thank you for your patience for the chapter-- it's been a crazy couple of weeks with Christmas preparations going on. Can anyone tell where the inspiration for the kiss on the hand came from? Did you like the reveal of Sherlock's lady love? How Sherlock is with his kids? I adore comments, and will love any that are sent my way!


	4. Evermore and Evermore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus scene!

"At Sherrinford, then, how did you know the coffin was a reference to me and not Kate, then," Molly asked as she and Sherlock sat at Angelo's on one of their first official dates.

"She was taller- the coffin at Sherrinford would have been too short," was Sherlock's matter of fact reply.

Molly nodded calmly once, but after a moment she started trying to hold in giggling. Sherlock looked at her, eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry," she worked out, "Really. I know, it's horrible of me, but 'She was taller!' That's all it was. All of Eurus' games and manipulations, and it came down to 'She was taller!'" With that, Molly lost it, bursting out laughing.

Thankfully, Sherlock wasn't offended at that because, sometime during her explanation, he had started chuckling, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a cut-scene that I had originally drafted to be part of the big reveal, but ultimately didn't fit. However, I loved the idea too much to get rid of it entirely, so I wrote it to work as an epilogue. Here you go! Whatcha think?

**Author's Note:**

> I make no money from my writing, nor do I own any characters except for my own OCs.


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